<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Para Joder by DanseDan</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719819">Para Joder</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanseDan/pseuds/DanseDan'>DanseDan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>GBU Lupita AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gratuitous use of puns, Hand &amp; Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Modern AU, Mutual Masturbation, Office Sex, Porn with Feelings, Teasing, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, trans!Angel Eyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:29:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanseDan/pseuds/DanseDan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel Eye’s office was absolutely ridiculous. Tuco knew it, the label’s clients knew it, the artists knew it, and, he was sure in his heart of hearts, that Angel himself was perfectly aware of the fact.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angel Eyes/Tuco Ramirez</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>GBU Lupita AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Para Joder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>uh this started as a joke on tumblr and then it was a quick porny diversion and now it's. Emotional thanks Syb you crazy actually-good-at-writing bastard, you. Set just around the time Blondie decides to do his vanishing act.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Angel Eye’s office was absolutely ridiculous. Tuco knew it, the label’s clients knew it, the artists knew it, and, he was sure in his heart of hearts, that Angel himself was perfectly aware of the fact. It was all so much- slate grey walls, leather couches and imposing black oak desk all crowded together intimately, facing the bright glass wall of windows shadowed by dark venetian blinds. It was like something out of those bad noirs he’d slept through in his childhood, sleek and stressful and somehow seductive.</p><p>And that suited Angel Eyes, all things considered. It might’ve been years since they’d last really spoken, but his name preceded him in their field of work, and all the more he’d think on it he felt certain that Angel must revel in the overbearingness of it all. Like somehow he’d maintained that same youthful flirtatiousness from their college days, when he was sex on legs and made sure you knew it, all the way through the exhausting and unsexy process of climbing up the record business at twenty-nine, that is to say way too much work in too little time. He was consciously still young (thirty-four now, he remembered) and yet somehow greying already, just at the temples, and losing hair under his usual wide-brimmed hat. Tuco supposed if anyone could make overwork look sexy it would in fact be Angel Eyes, who he still couldn’t think about too hard in polite company, who managed to find his way behind his eyelids more and more lately, at unexpected times, often on his back in a now-empty bed.</p><p>Angel Eyes, who had somehow gotten hold of his phone number. Who had called him, laughed in a voice heavier and smoke-streaked that hugged his name just right- <em>my Ramírez</em>- clear and deep. Angel Eyes, whose business call had shot his productivity the last three days, cost him two nights of sleep and a tireless string of breathless fades to black. Angel Eyes who he was about to see- about to see in that damn office- after almost a decade of nothing between them.</p><p>He’d see him tonight.</p><p>A day’s work gone in a flash, distractedly, and then the long three hours of nothing in between stretching for ages as he psyched himself up. Getting something to eat, picking the right clothes, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. He’d seen Angel around a couple times, when working with artists from his label, and he’d flipped by blurry snapshots of him behind Blondie in magazines when he got his hair cut, that sort of thing. Still, nothing like what they had been before, staring at all times in public, and practically glued together in the dark of his crappy old college apartment for days at a time.</p><p>Angel up close was a different beast-hypnotic almost, intense- all smooth skin and sweet pipe tobacco. Stepping into the warm jet of his shower, he couldn’t resist a reaction- what did Angel Eyes smell like now? Some sharp cologne, to match his elegant flair? Another type of tobacco, expensive and bitter and rich? Or maybe by himself simply deeper and musky, warm and natural and strong. The thought made his dick throb (not an entirely unfamiliar state, this last past while) and he resignedly reached out, sighing as we wrapped a hand around it loosely and began to move, teasing his nipples with his other hand. And Angel’s taste? The memory was muddled now, that year of stealing kisses flavored in a million different ways: spiced from that evening’s soup or morning’s coffee, smoke from his pipe, from chocolate, from sex. The weight of his tongue pressing against his mouth a specter on Tuco’s lips as he cried out and quickened his pace, remembering rough, longer hands and the smooth, unsettling edge of his one missing fingertip, Angel’s teasing smiles from behind him in much the same position. That rough new smoker’s voice of his cajoling, “<em>my Ramírez</em>” …</p><p>“you came.”</p><p>The first thing that hits him is that he hadn’t remembered how much taller Angel was than him. Even sitting across the desk it’s apparent-Angel is a sight, leaning back contentedly in his desk chair, and he’s acting like a bit of an idiot, shifting on his feet, awkwardly jammed between the two leather armchairs but somehow unable to sit, still feeling the echoes of sensation floating on his skin from his little escapade before arriving.</p><p> “well, Angel Eyes, that’s usually what happens when you call for someone,” a quiet, sweaty pause. “and I did say I’d be here.”</p><p>“I’m glad you are.” He’s staring, and god his eyes are just as sharp as ever, hard to look straight back at even softened with that distant, polite smile. “come, sit. How have you been?”</p><p><em>I should be asking you that question</em>, is his first thought.<em> He was more your lover now.</em></p><p>His second thought is a desperate prayer that he didn’t flinch while sitting, or at least for Angel not to have noticed it. From the look in his eyes, he can’t be so sure of either outcome- there’s a blurred sort of hunger in them that is new and therefore, to him unreadable.</p><p>“Fine, fine. I’ve been good. Working.” A glance around the room does nothing to clear his mind, dragging over dark, rich textures, but he forces his way into a smile. “and you, Angel? Uh… got a real swanky thing you’ve got going on, here-.” He bows his head a little, works up a jokingly conspiratorial look, blows his eyes wide, why not. Throw a joke and hope he catches.</p><p>And Angel laughs. The sound somehow entirely heartbreaking, soft and clearly tired but still bubbling from his throat with a good-natured warmth. Proud and guilty, like he’s been caught lying to a kid.</p><p>“You know, most people in here try to avoid that subject.” Now it’s his turn to go bashful, ‘cause he’s looking away and looking smashed to pieces and beautiful and Tuco can’t help himself but lean in, a little, talk a little softer.</p><p>“Well… it has been a while, but most people don’t know you as well as me.” It’s presumptuous and stupid and overly-possessive, and Angel Eyes is looking back at him again, looking harder now, with a judge’s cool gaze. He’s laughing from his nose, and god again he sounds exhausted but none of the warmth present before is there now- now he’s the one who’s caught him in a lie.</p><p>“You know me well, <em>Ramírez</em>?” and it shouldn’t but the grating anger of his voice run a jolt of heat through Tuco’s body, and suddenly it’s hard to sit, leaned forward as he is and putting pressure in all the wrong places-</p><p>But Angel Eyes has slipped his hand on top of his, and he’s looking so intently that he cannot move, only stare back tongue-tied.</p><p>“You know, the last I heard from you directly was- 2009. That call on Christmas eve, remember?” And serving him no better, the memory flashes by him of the lewd entendres whispered into a phonebooth in the snow- “<em>solo llamo para joder</em>”- to Angel all those miles away in Spain, with his stupid, stuffy family in their stupid marble drawing-rooms. The promises of punishment unkept and mapped-out routes for tongues and hands not ever taken. And Angel must see what it does to him, ‘cause he’s nodding again in that mean little way of his, tired eyes smiling with something again. “yes, yes, of course you remember. Seven years and then fading to silence.” And his voice sinks, but his posture is the same, leaning back on his desk chair, hand beginning to stroke circles on Tucos’ skin.</p><p>“…you had Blondie.”</p><p>“He isn’t you,” He says plainly. “He’s nothing like you.” he says, trailing off and quiet and far more for himself. He says nothing about him not being here.</p><p>And Tuco tries to find a reply in between the haze of it all, almost in pain and certainly embarrassed by his hard on only growing stronger with Angel’s attention on his hand, his deep, angry, accusing voice so intimate after so long, but Angel Eyes cuts him off.</p><p>“You know, he was my only source about you. And even then he… I didn’t have what you had-“ and he’s looking away again, almost turned all the way out the window now, tracing Tuco’s wrist in a way that’s going straight to his dick. “You don’t know… You don’t- show up on these magazines, people don’t know of you. Unlike- I couldn’t just…-“ his voice speeds up just a little, catches on that unusually active intonation that he slipped into at times, the closest Angel Eyes can sound to desperate is to talk like a debutante, and he’s digging his nails into the soft dark skin of his hand and breathing heavier. “You stayed away.” And still not looking- “I missed you.”</p><p>And Tuco just can’t help himself, doesn’t know if at this point he shouldn’t be so prone to these broad romantic gestures out of a crappy movie, but he straightens up and reaches for Angel’s face across the desk, holds him in both hands and kisses deep and desperate, kisses guilty and terrified and kisses sinking into old love never truly broken, and it hurts.</p><p>Mostly ‘cause he’s caught his dick on the rim of the desk. Fucking height difference.</p><p>And as Angel pulls away a strangled moan rips out of his throat, and he’s sure if he was any paler he would’ve gone scald-iron red but he holds onto Angel’s face, his hair soft under his fingertips and tries to look honest and real and ignore it.</p><p>“<em>mi amor</em>-“</p><p>“Tuco. You seem to have…”</p><p>“No- yes- well, forget it, okay? It doesn’t matter. Angel, I-“ he’s desperately trying to redeem himself, for the years of stupid insecurity, and for showing up and ruining the moment, assuming he still had a right to anything of Angel’s and getting hard like an idiot.</p><p>And Angel’s hands softly come up to his, pry them away but keep them held aloft as he leans into his neck and murmurs.</p><p>“Tuco. Let me take care of you,” His eyes are blown with want and laughter, soft again.</p><p>“Angel-“ he insisted, but Angel’s hands were pulling him around the desk now, to join him windowside, back to his guard but quietly smiling.</p><p>“we can talk later. Please.”</p><p>The warmth of him, chests loosely pressed together side-by-side, his muscular thigh coming up between his legs, all slotting into place like no time ever passed without them locked together. Looking up at Angel, reaching to hold him, caress his neck, he sees the man haloed by the warm, bright lights of the city so far below them, and he’s more than earned his namesake.</p><p>“Angel, let me-“</p><p>He’s cut off by a kiss, this one slower, savoring, and with a clearer mind he gets his answer, Angel tastes like just the same tobacco but a darker, bitter coffee and his mouth is sweet and so addictive, the sound of their tongues wet and obscene and efficient, because when he manages to drag his hands down Angel’s front and reach into his pants his little dick is unsheathed and at attention, cunt growing wet and desperately tight around his fingers. He moves and Angel moans into his mouth, keeps rubbing his leg on Tuco’s clothed member, pinning him against the desk. Tuco reaches out his thumb to rub his dick, two fingers sheathed inside the man now, scissoring him open, reveling in the tension in his lover’s neck, the closed-mouth kisses he’s methodically pressing onto the corner of his lips, his cheek, his neck, until he’s gotten down to the collarbones, furiously fumbling open buttons. He can feel Angel’s breath catch in time with his fingers’ movements, works him quickly with an active pace to feel it brush and jitter on his own skin, and Angel bites down, scolding, on his nipples, rolls his hips just right to get a howl out of him he can barely restrain- it might be late but the hallway is right behind them, past that heavy door he isn’t fully sure even has a lock- and he can feel Angel clench and come onto his fingertips, reaching to pull his hand out of his drawers and guide back up to his own mouth, tasting himself off Tuco’s fingers and staring him down while he does it, tongue teasingly flicking through between them, teeth scraping knuckles as he took the digits into his mouth, lips wrapped around them one by one ‘till Tuco was trembling like a bitch in heat.</p><p>“<em>Angel</em>-“</p><p>“my <em>Ramírez</em>,” Calm as ever, cruelly businesslike in tone but staring hungry down into his eyes. “<em>pedídme lo que querraís</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Angel, tus labios</em>- argh- <em>te</em>-“ he could hardly speak, feeling Angel’s fingers brushing down his arms, just barely there over the fabric of this raggedy, ill-fitting suit, caressing their way to his now wide open legs just barely dangling off the desk’s ledge, the fucking tease. But he can take a joke and shoot one just as well, even in his state.</p><p>“<em>A ti, Angel. Te quiero a ti</em>.”</p><p>And oh santa maría that’s not a joke at all and it comes out all heavy. Angel Eyes is looking down at him like he’s just shot him in the foot, and he’s still so hard it hurts to even think about but all that comes is quiet and the tension grows between their eyes. He knows he meant it but he can’t fully believe that Angel knows that too, knows how much it means to him even in this state, because the man just leans in over him and whispers coolly into the crown of his head, starts undoing his fly.</p><p>“you dumb, cruel, impatient man,” he says, his fingers wrapped around the shaft of his dick, expertly caressing along the sensitive underside, thumb reaching to brush around the protruding tip.</p><p>“you idiot,” he mumbles, closing in on him and moving faster, gathering his hand to tighten around Tuco’s member and pulling up, the motion skilled and soft and steady, methodical. His other hand snakes down to grip his balls in tandem with the movement, lips planted on Tuco’s sweaty hair and audibly inhaling, making some soft animal noise he can’t decide whether to call a sob or a growl.</p><p>“<em>Te adoro</em>.”</p><p>And god, the shock of hearing those words again, wrapped around that voice, and being wrapped himself in the man’s talented hands draw him past the point of fickle pleasures that he’d been consumed by since the first new listen of that voice he’d got. The stab of heat that pooled in his stomach spreading soft, contented through his body with the shiver of release, a pool of white in his lover’s sap-tan hands and a mess on his dressclothes, twitching softly with a sudden awareness of the sweat, the cold, the smell of sex, and the tall, warm weight Angel Eyes on top of him.</p><p>He reached up for a lazy kiss against his neck, met with a contented hum.</p><p>“So, you just had to outdo me, eh?”</p><p>And he can feel Angel laugh light again, feel his shoulders shake from it against his own.</p><p>“mhmn… it’s only midnight. You’ll have plenty of time to regain your standing.”</p><p>“… <em>no jodas</em>.”</p><p>“really?” the bastard wasn’t even trying to get up anymore, almost cuddling into him. “because I thought that was exactly what you wanted to keep doing.”</p><p>And as much as he feigns annoyance, he sees Angel snickering at his own puns and he can’t help but hope that means this was alright, that they’re alright and they’ll be able to work through things now, that this wasn’t just some poor misleading exercise in loneliness.</p><p>For now, he supposes, he’s just happy to commit the new Angel Eyes to memory- voice, scent, taste, warmth, weight, and love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>translation notes?? idek</p><p>Sad that I have to explain the punchline like this but uh: Joder means to annoy someone in latam, it means to fuck in Spain (think of like... the phrase "fucking around" being taken literally some places I guess for an English comparison?)<br/>In the same vein "querer" means love/romantic like but it also means to want (not like. Biblical Thinly Veiled Horny Want that would be "desear" just like normal wanting things) Tuco talks about Angel outdoing him because Spanish has like... a sliding scale for love words going from 'me agradas'-&gt;'te quiero'-&gt;'te amo'-&gt;'te adoro' it's mostly a cheesy joke.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>